Mum. Stop! This doesn’t work on me anymore.
You will know by now that I am deeply passionate about helping you understand how the unresolved wounds from your past are showing up in your adult life. So, today, I felt it was time to have a chat about something we usually sweep under the rug. I want to shine a light on something a little contentious, somewhat heavy, generally pretty complicated – something that a lot of women carry around in absolute silence: our complex relationships with our mothers.
Now, I know even just hearing that might make your chest tighten. It’s a bloody hard one to talk about. Why? Because there is a deep, symbiotic connection there with our mothers. An imprint. An unspoken loyalty and an undeniable guilt that comes with feeling at odds in this relationship. Sharing your complaints feels inherently wrong. And depending on who you talk to, it’s either met with quick agreement that easily falls into a toxic blame-fest, or an argument suggesting that you’re actually the problem. Eesh. Better to keep your mouth shut, right?
"After everything I’ve sacrificed for you, this is how you treat me?"
This woman brought you into the world and sacrificed a tremendous amount for you, and there is no doubt she’s let you know that a few times. This lays the path for your discomfort, bringing with it a heavy wave of guilt and a masked, quiet kind of shame. There was always an unspoken rule: What happens in this house stays in this house. If you spoke up about unfair treatment or tried to set a boundary, you felt the pain. The consequences of disloyalty were severe – emotional freezing out, smear campaigns within the extended family, or complete financial and emotional abandonment.
Your mum is the centre of the universe in your family. The matriarch. The supposed giver of all - or however you want to name it. She either sweetly and seemingly lovingly, or somewhat forcefully, keeps the engine running – and she controls the engine room. To maintain control, a narcissistic mother will make deliberate plays to prevent her children from forming a united front.
She uses triangulation – commonly known as "playing siblings off one another." She talks to one child about an issue, and that child then places pressure, either overtly or passively, on the other sibling. It creates the exact outcome the mother wanted: total control. These actions are subtle, flying right under the radar. It is a quiet manipulation designed to foster misalignment, or intense sibling competition and, at times, outright rivalry.
Here are some of the basic dynamics she creates in the family system, shifting these roles arbitrarily to keep everyone off-balance and competing for her favour:
The Golden Child: The one who can do no wrong and perfectly reflects the mother's ideal self. (Let's be honest, if you are reading this and nodding along, this wasn’t you!)
The Lost or Forgotten Child: The one who is essentially invisible, flying under the radar just to stay safe.
The Mascot: The one who uses humour or high achievement to constantly diffuse family tension.
The Scapegoat: Poor old scapegoat – the one who is blamed for absolutely all the family problems.
Sit with that for a while. Can you link any of this to your own family?
You see, your dear mother used gentle, relentless, subtle bites at your character, your appearance, your dreams, and your aspirations. This kind of criticism erodes your self-esteem so thoroughly that you now remain dependent on her for validation. Subtlety is her master skill.
"That dress is so brave for someone with your body type," or "Are you sure you want to apply for that promotion? I just don't want you to be disappointed."
You see, you never actually got her approval. By constantly moving the goalposts, your mother ensured you never felt "good enough," forcing you to keep trying harder and harder to win that acceptance. And on those days when you felt insecure, sad, or lonely? Your mother was entirely blind to it. Instead, when you looked for emotional support, she reversed the roles. She talked about her own issues and her own needs, and suddenly, you were expected to manage her emotions.
Does any of this sound familiar to you?
Okay, while you read this, remember it is just you and me here. I want you to feel safe, and I want you to tell yourself that it’s okay to feel a little vulnerable right now.
These are the areas where you now have to take responsibility for healing your own unmet needs as an adult. And that is exactly why I am bringing this up today. We need a space to call this out. We need to normalise this conversation because keeping it a secret is exactly what keeps you stuck. So, my friend, let’s gently talk about what behaviours you are likely experiencing in your adult life right now, simply because you were brought up by a narcissistic mother.
When you grow up with a mum who needs to be the sun that the entire family revolves around, you don’t get to just be. You learn to survive. And those survival mechanisms? They don’t just vanish when you move out. They unpack their bags and follow you right into your adulthood:
The Chronic People-Pleaser: Do you find yourself constantly changing colour to suit the room? Because love was a currency in your childhood home – only given when you performed perfectly – you’ve likely become a hyper-vigilant chameleon. You anticipate everyone else’s needs before they even have them, secretly terrified that if you aren't "useful," you’ll be abandoned.
The Flawlessness Trap: That voice inside your head telling you that you have to be completely perfect? That’s not yours – that’s hers. You might chase achievement like a woman possessed, driven by the underlying belief that if you are absolutely flawless, no one can criticise or reject you. It’s exhausting, my friend, and it leads straight to burnout.
Boundary Paralysis: Saying a simple, clean "no" probably feels like a life-threatening risk. You might find yourself tolerating some pretty sub-par treatment in your friendships or romantic relationships because, frankly, disrespect feels familiar. When you do try to set a boundary, it likely triggers physical nausea and a wave of panic.
The Constant "Fixer" Mode: If a partner or a friend is quiet, or having a bad day, does your nervous system go into overdrive? You immediately think, What did I do wrong? How do I fix this? You were trained to be a psychic sponge for your mother’s unpredictable moods, and now you’re still trying to manage the emotional weather for everyone else.
Living like this means your triggers are constantly being tripped. A bit of constructive feedback at work doesn't just feel like a note; it feels like a full-blown attack on your character. Being celebrated makes you want to hide, because historically, shining too bright drew envy and punishment from the one person who should have been cheering you on.
I can appreciate that reading this may cut straight to the bone – but this kind of connection to the origins of your complex trauma is an important aspect of your healing process. If you want to dive deeper, come have a chat with me. I can help you through this process. It’s rather scary to do it alone, I know.
Together, we will work on how to re-establish your values, so you can focus your actions on healing each of these four modes of conditioned behaviour you are automatically playing out. And – I will help you start to practice the dialogue that enables you to put in place those healthy, subtle, and distinctly needed boundaries - with the subtext that softly but clearly says: “Mum, stop! This doesn’t work on me anymore.”
I’m holding your hand.
Fleur Elizabeth
